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“You think still have a chance at that, even if it’s just a small one.”

Also: “If you’re not going to get better, you might as well spend your time working at the expense of your long term health, because you’re fucked in the long term regardless.”

I recognize that thinking quite much, going back and forth between not giving a shit about feeling well because it’s not enough for justifying it instead of working ones ass off, thus not feeling very well later on (since the future is fucked), and feeling that it’s important to take care of myself today and not over-exert myself so that the rest of the week gets fucked… Five years and going with awesome (in the sense of great, grand–ah you know what I mean) fatigue every day, making it almost impossible to do anything of value, work, study, etc. I used to be able to manage by stressing myself so badly that I wouldn’t fall asleep. Now I feel those times are over, and that in the long-term that’s really not gonna make any positive difference. The last doctor I saw still claims that sitting at home all the time is bad for my health, and so I should go out and do some work, why not 8 hours a day even? Yeah, catch 22 alright.

I wish you all the luck man, if the story is biographical then I’d like to tell you that you’ve done lots of beautiful things already. Perhaps making the grandest of statements in one magnum opus of epic scope isn’t what’s in our paths, but just day-to-day beauty and goodness, pieces of connection, of life, of art.